


A Sleepy Afternoon

by emelianss



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emelianss/pseuds/emelianss
Summary: Marco’s lying on the bed facing the wall, soft snores drifting through the quiet. Jean smiles at the sight of him and his dishevelled hair, a familiar tug in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t feel so giddy after being together with him for years, but he can’t help it. Marco’s just too adorable.Gift fic for JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2017.





	A Sleepy Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heckthedamn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckthedamn/gifts).



> Hello Noor! I'm your Secret Santa :D  
> I had ideas for both your prompts but ended up going with the fluffy established relationship one. I hope it's fluffy enough, and that you'll enjoy it! <3
> 
> I hope you, and everyone seeing this, are having a lovely holiday and/or day!  
> And a big thank you to the mods for organising this again this year. You've done a wonderful job. :')

The guest room lies in silence, dim light from the window fading as the sun starts to set. Jean leans down to let his bag fall from his shoulder to the floor with as little sound as possible, then shuts the door carefully with his hip. The excited voices from downstairs are still audible, but more like a background murmur. They don’t really disturb the stillness.

Marco’s lying on the bed facing the wall, soft snores drifting through the quiet. Jean smiles at the sight of him and his dishevelled hair, a familiar tug in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t feel so giddy after being together with him for years, but he can’t help it. Marco’s just too adorable. And he’s so used to Marco’s presence it’s always strange to be away from each other for a few days — and wonderful to see him again.

It’s a bit chilly in here; not freezing, but fresh, like after a window’s been open for a while. It’s closed now — Jean checks to be sure, careful not to drop the plate he carries or tip over any of the colourful Christmas crafts parading on the table in front of the window as he leans over it. There are felt Santas, pine cone Christmas trees, clay angels, and paper reindeer, as well as lots of other shapes he can’t make out what they’re supposed to be. But he moves them with utmost care before placing the plate among them. The gingerbread cookies smile up at him with their white frosting mouths, the freckles on their cheeks as charming now as they were the first time Marco’s oldest niece presented one to him.

Jean shivers a little. He walked from the station, and so the noisy commotion and warmth of the kitchen was very nice to enter. But, he supposes, having been surrounded by those five kids since morning, it’s probably a relief to take a nap in some fresh air. And Marco doesn’t seem cold at all; the blanket thrown over him only covers him up to the waist, but he’s wearing the big sweater his mum made for him, and the bare foot sticking out from under the blanket may have lost its colourful sock, but it’s warmed by the fat cat snoozing close. Besides, Marco always was much warmer than Jean.

Jean huddles into his own homemade sweater, gifted to him two years before when he celebrated Christmas with the Bodts for the first time. It’s red and blue with a big green Christmas tree, wonky stars, and his name across the chest in sparkling, mismatched colours. It’s ridiculous and he loves it.

He sits down on the bed, pushing at Marco slightly to gain some space for himself. Marco’s lost sock falls from the edge of the mattress to the floor. ‘Hey, Sleeping Beauty, move over a little.’

Marco blinks blearily as he turns and moves, sluggish but a bit faster with Jean’s help. ‘Hhhh… Jean?’ A sleepy smile spreads over his face. ‘When did you get here? Oh no, I was supposed to meet you at the station—’

He squints towards the alarm clock on the bedside table, but Jean’s fingers combing through his messy hair distracts him. He sighs happily and tugs at Jean’s sweater to get him closer for a kiss. It’s soft and clumsy, and Jean hums into it as Marco’s warmth spreads over to him.

‘Don't worry about that,’ he mumbles, ‘I've been here before, and I’m good at finding the way.’

Marco snorts, one brow raised.

Jean rolls his eyes. ‘Okay fine, your sister called and guided me here. She thought you deserved the nap.’

Marco nods but gets interrupted by a big yawn. ‘I—ahhh—I agree. I’ve been awake since six this morning, busy all day since then. Why do kids don't want to sleep in? And where do they get all their energy? I’m completely exhausted.’

‘I thought you liked babysitting them.’

‘Oh, I _do_. But gosh, all of them at once, all wild with Christmas excitement?’ He lets out a deflating noise, letting his arms fall back to the mattress in illustrative defeat. Jean laughs gently and brushes a loose curl away from Marco’s face.

Having an older sister and a close cousin who both started their families in their early twenties means there are a lot of kids for Marco to look after. Especially at times like this when their parents are busy preparing the holiday celebrations. He loves it though. He's always been wonderful with kids, how to talk with them, and how to be stern and playful in a balance. His nieces as well as the cousin’s children all adore him. The thought of their sparkling eyes as they gaze up at Marco fills Jean's chest with a affectionate pride.

Marco smiles back at him. ‘How are you?’ he asks, brushing his thumb over Jean’s cheek. ‘Did the exam go well?’

Jean shrugs. ‘I guess. I was panicking over it earlier—’

Marco’s expression shifts in an instant, the concern deep in his frown. ‘Oh Jean, no—’

‘—but it's _fine_ ,’ Jean presses on, giving him a pointed look. Marco’s worry and care have been a welcome help many times before, but there's no need for it right now _._ He’s gotten better at shoving away the negativity. _‘_ I left all those thoughts in Trost. Now I’m here. With you.’ He pokes Marco’s cheek, offering a crooked smile. ‘No space left in my head to worry about school.’

Marco’s face softens, his eyes kind. ‘I missed you,’ he says and wraps his arms around Jean, hugging him close. ‘It’s only been a few days but I’ve been thinking about you all the time. I wish I could have stayed with you.’

‘Aw come on, I’ve been fine,’ Jean replies, hiding his stupid grin against Marco’s chest. ‘And I’m pretty sure they needed your help more here.’

Marco’s sweater has rolled up a bit, revealing a glimpse of his freckled stomach. The temptation is too hard to resist; before Marco has time to realise what he’s doing, Jean digs his hands inside his sweater, his cold skin meeting Marco’s warm. This earns him a yelp of distress from Marco. ‘No, no, _cold!_ ’ he exclaims, worming his way out of Jean’s grasp. ‘Coldcoldcoldcold—’

‘Please, Marco, I had to walk here and I’m freezing!’ Jean can hear how pathetic he sounds, and it makes it even harder to keep the laughter from his voice. ‘And you're so _warm_ —’

But Marco has already taken cover under the blanket, pressing it around himself like tight armour. ‘Your fingers are like ice cubes!’ he chides. ‘What happened with the mittens I gave you? You got them early so that _you_ _could wear them!’_

‘I think I forgot them at home,’ Jean admits and covers his face with an arm as Marco lightly shoves his shoulder. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose!’

The cat complains as she leaps from the bed, angry to have been disturbed in her sleep. She waddles over to the door, clawing on it to be let out. Marco gives Jean a meaning look; Jean groans but gets up to open the door for her. She chases his feet with her paws, then rushes out faster than Jean has ever seen her move.

When he turns, Marco’s half-sitting on the bed, leaned back against the pillows and still with the blanket wrapped around himself for protection. He watches Jean return to the bed with squinting eyes, small smile hidden behind a hand. Cowlicks stick up at one side, creating an unbalanced crown of thick dark curls around his head. The way he scrunches up his nose makes him look so young, so sweet, and the joy gleaming in his suspicious expression melts away Jean’s teasing mood. ‘God, I just want to kiss you all over your face,’ he exhales as he leans closer.

But Marco turns away, the elbow against Jean’s chest holding him at a distance. ‘Oh no, you won't. Not after that treatment.’

‘Come on, Marco—’

‘Coming here, tricking me with your cute face and kisses, using my trust to steal my warmth! Such a cruel betrayal.’ Marco glances at Jean, the corner of his mouth for a moment quirking into a smile before he attempts to force it away. He only sort of succeeds.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jean says, pouting in hopes that his _cute face_ will weaken Marco’s resolve again. He’s pretty sure he looks more silly though, which is confirmed by Marco’s raised eyebrows. But then he remembers what else he took with him into the room; he moves away from the bed in retreat, reaching for the small plant lying by the cookie plate. ‘It’s so hard to resist when you’re so soft and cosy, and I’m so cold. But I promise I won’t do it again. I… I even got a gift for you.’

He holds it behind his back as he stands beside the bed, waiting for Marco’s curious frown to turn into words. When he finally asks, Jean reaches out, positioning the mistletoe with its red ribbon in the air above Marco’s head, watching with delight how Marco’s eyes fill with emotions. Marco must have seen it himself outside their room in the corridor, his sister no doubt hanging it there on purpose. She’d always loved the story of their first kiss.

‘Are you serious?’ Marco tries to sound condemning, but the smile breaks through his mask. ‘You took it down just to do this?’

‘Can't help it,’ Jean says, pleased with Marco’s reaction. He sits down beside him again and twirls the stem between two fingers. ‘The sight always makes me all warm and nostalgic… Not warm enough though,’ he adds, ‘I need you for that.’

Marco rolls his eyes. He’s still fighting the smile, but it’s a half-hearted battle now. ‘Dork,’ he murmurs, nudging his elbow into Jean’s chest. He doesn’t move when Jean responds by placing his free hand on his arm.

‘Well?’

‘Well _what?’_

Jean shakes the mistletoe above them. ‘Aren’t you gonna kiss me? Can’t break such an important tradition, can you?’

For a moment it almost looks like Marco’s about to turn away again. Instead he smiles wider and leans closer, kissing Jean hard on the lips. But as Jean's eyes fall closed with a happy hum, Marco’s hands find his waist, fingers digging into the familiar spots. With a surprised yelp Jean tries to get away, but Marco’s ready; he wraps one arm around Jean, holding him close while his other hand continues to tease his ticklish sides.

‘Not fair!’ Jean yells, giggles bubbling behind his struggles. He wrestles against Marco’s embrace, but Marco’s stronger; it’s no trouble for him to get Jean down on his back on the bed. ‘You’re cheating— _ah!’_

Marco’s heavy on top of Jean’s chest, but it’s a pleasant weight. He wriggles a little, trying to reach the hem of Marco’s sweater to fight back, but Marco catches his wrists and holds his hands together between them. He smiles, his breathy laughter mixing with Jean’s; when Jean’s still, he lets go with one hand to trace his fingers through his bangs. ‘Now we’re even,’ he says, the mischief in his eyes mixed with the softest affection. He picks up the mistletoe from where Jean dropped it on the pillow and holds it close to their faces, his own thoughtful. ‘Can’t believe it’s been 4 years. You were so cute, all flustered and red. I had daydreams about that for weeks after, you know. Not only the kiss, but your frown, your stammering, that blush… ah there it is. Oh how I love that look on your face.’

‘Shutup,’ Jean mutters, but it lacks any edge. His cheeks are hot, his chest happy.

Marco laughs, like music. This time he kisses Jean softly; he holds his arms around him, and Jean does the same, hugging him close. Without letting go, Marco manages to grab the corners of the sheets and wraps them around Jean too, rubbing his hands along his back and arms. The warmth seeps through Jean from every direction, embracing him in a nice bubble, filling all his senses with Marco’s existence.

‘I love you,’ he mumbles into the crook of Marco’s neck; Marco whispers it back against his lips.

They lie there for a while, just holding each other and sharing lazy kisses between the smiles. It’s dark outside now, the decorative lights hanging from the roof casting their shifting colours on the white snowflakes falling in the stillness. The dull sound of Christmas music sails through the air from the kitchen below.

Marco’s head perks up suddenly, eyes zeroing in on the cookies on the table. ‘Oh look, they’re baked!’ He gives Jean a wide grin, childlike glee gleaming in his eyes as he sits up on his knees before moving off the bed. ‘Did you try one?’

‘The kids insisted,’ Jean says, and Marco nods in understanding. ‘Of course they’re delicious, which they were all very pleased to hear.’

‘I bet.’ Marco chuckles. ‘Ah, if only we had milk—’

‘Oh right!’ Jean jumps up from the bed and to the door a second time, now opening it enough to snatch the pitcher from the floor outside. ‘I had to put it down before opening and to get my bag off my back,’ he explains as he returns, this time shoving the door shut. ‘I completely forgot it. Too busy looking at you.’

‘Aw,’ Marco sounds, tone teasing but his cheeks warm.

Back on the bed with glasses of milk and a plate full of cookies, they snuggle up close together. Jean doesn’t have much to tell since all he’s been doing is study, but Marco has more than enough of stories for both of them. With colourful descriptions and hand gestures, he narrates the adventures of the past days; all between dressing the tree and wrapping presents — and _making_ some last-minute ones — to building a snow fort and chasing the kids down the street after they’d stolen a box of chocolate meant for Christmas Eve. He's had some eventful past days, most of the drama caused by the children.

Jean listens, silently admiring him. He thinks about the small box in his bag, and what it contains. Every passing second he’s more convinced it’s the best decision he’s ever going to make.

The creation of the gingerbread cookies is interrupted by a loud clattering sound from below. Marco grimaces. ‘Sounds like they’ve started making dinner,’ he says, but returns his head to the pillows and Jean’s shoulder.

Jean glances at the door, expecting the running footsteps to stop outside their door, but they pass without falter. ‘Shouldn't we go down and help them?’

‘No, I’ve helped enough. I’m resting.’ Marco turns on his side towards Jean, nuzzling closer, one arm over Jean’s chest as if to make sure he doesn’t leave. ‘And,’ he adds, his playful smile growing, ‘I’ve still got some catching up to do with my boyfriend.’

Jean grins back and takes Marco’s hand, lacing their fingers and squeezing. He nudges his nose against Marco’s, before pressing a light kiss to the corner of his lips. ‘Sounds good.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please let me know <3
> 
> My [tumblr](http://emelianss.tumblr.com) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/emelianss).


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